


a foolproof guide to getting your husband a wedding anniversary gift

by magicsoul (cherishiskisa)



Series: murderverse [2]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, M/M, this is incredibly silly and self-indulgent but such is life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/magicsoul
Summary: Five years down the line, Changkyun tries his hand at pulling off a scheme of his own.
Relationships: Im Changkyun | I.M/Yoo Kihyun
Series: murderverse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845613
Comments: 41
Kudos: 105





	a foolproof guide to getting your husband a wedding anniversary gift

**Author's Note:**

> WELL! BREAKING NEWS: I CAN'T SHUT UP! if you haven't read [a foolproof guide to success in the modern age](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919230/chapters/49730561), this will make exactly 0 sense. if you HAVE, all you need to know going in is: remember emma, changkyun’s assistant? i sure do! so i wrote this, working title “mlm/wlw solidarity,” because i truly missed foolproof so, so terribly, and i wanted to try my hand at changkyun pov. infinite thanks as always to roux, katya, and my wife for early reading and emotional support, and intellectual property credit necessarily goes out to hyb, of course.
> 
> without further ado, but with many apologies for how sappy this is -- 

“I’m so sorry for calling you at this hour,” Changkyun whispers, his hand cupped around the phone, even though he’s tucked away in the first-floor south-east bathroom, as far from the master bedroom as it is physically possible to get in this house. “But it’s important, and I know you’re not my assistant anymore so this is definitely not your problem at all, but, well, you know I don’t really have any other friends.”

There is a brief hesitation on the other end of the line, and a crackled sigh. “I had access to your address book for three years. Yeah, I know you don’t have friends.”

“Hey,” Changkyun says, offended. “I have friends _now!_ They just don’t live in Manhattan!”

“They’re your husband’s friends, it doesn’t count,” Emma says, and yawns. “What can I help you with?”

“Um,” Changkyun says and drops his voice again. “So it’s our wedding anniversary, and—”

“Oh, that’s right. Congratulations.”

“Very disappointed that you didn’t make dinner reservations and get flowers delivered, now he’s furious,” Changkyun jokes, which falls flat, because it’s quite literally 6 in the morning and because, frankly, it didn’t deserve a laugh in the first place. “Um, anyway, thanks, I’m actually about to go pick up the flowers right now. And something else. I’ll pay you triple overtime, do you think you could meet me at—” He pulls his phone away from his ear for a second to confirm the address, then continues, “110th and 1st?”

Another silence; Emma is presumably checking the address. Changkyun knows that she and her girlfriend used to live out in Williamsburg, but after her promotion they moved to Greenwich Village — it’s still not exactly close, but it could be farther. “Triple, you said?” Emma says warily.

“Quadruple,” Changkyun says, despairing. “Please. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t really important.”

Emma sighs, but it’s a sigh that Changkyun recognizes from back when she was his assistant — that’s the sigh that means she’ll go along with his latest harebrained scheme with no further complaints. It’s always been a matter of naming her price. “Alright. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Cool, see you there,” Changkyun says, and they both hang up.

Half an hour. Changkyun checks traffic; it’s 23 minutes from Bronxville to 110th and 1st, and they can get flowers on the way back, and he meal-prepped for breakfast so all the components are ready to be cooked as soon as he returns. Kihyun is fast asleep — three glasses of Languedoc rosé last night, strategically offered, will keep him dozing comfortably until 8 at the very earliest. It’s enough time for sure. Right? It has to be. Changkyun has gotten very good at scheming, over the last few years. He’s learned how to think like Kihyun, and if this plan is one Kihyun would be able to pull off, then Changkyun can probably do it, too. So he hops in the car and guns it to Manhattan, adrenaline making him more comfortable with going 5 miles above the speed limit and taking 87, just like Kihyun likes it, and after he’s gone around the block no fewer than a dozen times to try and find parking, he spots Emma’s orange head waiting for him on the street and, oh miracle, stumbles across a parking spot at the exact same instant. That’s a good omen if he’s ever seen one, now that he’s back to believing in that sort of thing.

“Hey!” Changkyun calls to her from across the street, waving wildly, and Emma looks up from her phone and latte and nods, casual. Changkyun has given up jaywalking cold turkey at Kihyun’s behest, so he waits obediently for the light to change before trotting over to her. “I really, really appreciate this so much, seriously.”

“Mhm,” Emma says. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

“Why would I tell you when I could just—”

“No, please actually tell me first.”

Changkyun pouts. This is the problem with befriending your executive assistant and then promoting her; she knows you too well, but has no incentive to be nice to you anymore. “I’m getting Kihyun a surprise for our anniversary,” he explains, “and I’m supposed to pick him up at 6:45.”

“Who,” Emma says, blinking, “Kihyun? There’s— no way you can get back to Bronxville in—”

“See, it would have been faster if I’d just shown you,” Changkyun says, shaking his head, and gestures for her to follow him as he sets off with a springing step down the street. Emma follows, but her confusion doesn’t abate even when he holds the door open to the Manhattan Animal Care Center for her. “Sorry, this should take, like, 15 minutes, I need to fill out some forms.”

“I am so confused,” Emma mumbles.

“Just wait,” Changkyun insists. A tired-looking teenager in scrubs emerges from a door at the back, and Changkyun perks up, resting his hands on the counter and sending him his brightest smile. “Good morning! Here to pick up?”

“Oh, ’kay,” says the teen. “Name?”

“Me or the dog?” Changkyun jokes.

Nothing, neither from the teenager nor from Emma. “Just you,” says the teen, tiredly.

“Changkyun Im.”

A little bit of typing, squinting at the computer. “Gotcha. Picking up… Bullet?”

“That’s the one!” Changkyun enthuses. He turns to raise his eyebrows gleefully at Emma, who mouths _Bullet?_ at him, but before Changkyun can explain that the name is most certainly not going to stick, the teenager slides a clipboard across the counter to Changkyun with a pen, and Changkyun dutifully begins to sign his name and initials where indicated.

“Sorry, if I can just butt in here for a second,” Emma says as the teenager leaves through a different door than he’d come in through. “You’re getting your husband a dog for your anniversary?”

“Yep!” Changkyun beams.

“And… it’s a surprise?”

“Sure is,” Changkyun nods, continuing to fill out the form with his address, his phone number, Kihyun’s phone number, the vet’s phone number. “Just wait ’til you see him, he’s _so_ cute.”

Emma is very suspiciously silent, but Changkyun is paying her for companionship and dogwatching, not moral judgment on whether Changkyun is making a grave mistake by surprising Kihyun with a live animal. He’s considered that, of course, but — he has a gut feeling that it’s going to be alright. And if it’s not, if Kihyun hates the concept, Changkyun can reluctantly rehome the wretched creature and spend the next couple of weeks in the (hopefully metaphorical, but he wouldn’t put it past Kihyun at this point) doghouse, making up for his trespasses. He finishes with the forms, unclicks the pen, and rocks back on his heels, smiling at Emma again. “First I was gonna get us a puppy and I even put down a deposit with an ethical breeder, but then I did a bunch of reading and it turns out puppies are exactly like newborns when it comes to the amount of attention and effort they require, and Kihyun definitely doesn’t have the patience for that sort of thing,” he explains. “So I had the breeder basically give the puppy we were supposed to get to the next person on the waitlist, and I started looking at shelters instead to find a dog that wasn’t a puppy anymore, so we wouldn’t have to do _all_ the training, you know? I really lucked out here. You’ll see, he’s incredible.”

“Hm,” Emma says.

“I just feel like Kihyun gets bored,” Changkyun sighs. “Even if he says he doesn’t, I can tell. And we’re not having kids, but he needs something to do besides work, since that’s really pretty freelance and he makes his own schedule, so I thought, hey, why not.”

“A dog is a fairly large commitment,” Emma points out, clearly unable to bite her tongue further, and Changkyun rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“I _know_ that. I’m _ready_ for that. You should see all the books in my trunk,” he says. “Seriously, this wasn’t an impulse decision.”

“Okay,” Emma says.

“It wasn’t!” Changkyun insists.

“Okay!” Emma says. “No, it’s, that’s, aww. Very sweet. Happy anniversary.”

“Five years, can you believe it?” Changkyun sighs blissfully, and Emma makes a vaguely amazed noise, shaking her head. “Anyway, this is what I needed your help for. I’m not going to be able to sneak the box into the house because Kihyun is probably going to be awake by the time we get back, but I can’t just leave a dog in a car in a garage in August, you know? And I couldn’t have asked a neighbor, there’s no one else around for miles.”

“Got it,” Emma says. It’s a testament to her professionalism that she doesn’t have any reaction stronger than that — that’s how Changkyun knows he made a good decision in asking her to help. Who else would be so unbothered by being rudely awoken at 6 AM to spend less than 5 important minutes total alone with a dog? She always was a good assistant, and it’s oddly comforting to know that she has remained a good friend. Not that Emma sees them as friends, probably. But she’s still there, and Changkyun is so happy to be celebrating another anniversary with Kihyun, and the teenager returns with an honest-to-God Build-A-Bear-type box, cardboard and with holes in the sides, carrying it by the handle at the top and with one palm braced underneath, just in case, and Changkyun’s breath catches in his throat.

“You wanna say hi?” offers the teenager, setting the box on the counter, and Changkyun leans down immediately to poke a couple fingers through the holes.

“I don’t want to get him too riled up before the drive,” Changkyun says, but then he feels a wet nose against the tip of his finger and squeals delightedly. “Yeah? You excited to meet your other new dad?”

“I’m just here for moral support,” Emma explains to the now-confused teenager.

“Uh... great. Okay, well, we have a copy of your ID, you already paid the adoption fee, and you have all your forms filled out, so all you need to do is just have his vet call us after he gets his booster shots,” says the teen, taking the clipboard from the counter. “Congrats, happy gotcha day.”

“Thank you so much,” Changkyun says, glowing. “So that’s it? I can just take him and go?”

“Yep,” says the teenager in a tone that very much conveys ’please leave immediately,’ and Changkyun carefully takes the box from the counter, slowly and measuredly so as not to rock Bullet — Christ, what an unfortunate name — around too much, and cradles it to his chest.

“Thanks,” Emma adds to the teen, and this time she’s the one who holds open the door as Changkyun steps out onto the street, precious cargo in his arms. “Didn’t know you were a dog person.”

“I don’t know if I am? I think I’m more excited about this vicariously through Kihyun,” Changkyun shrugs. “Where’d I park?”

“Literally right there,” Emma says, pointing.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” Changkyun says and pushes the walk button with his elbow, not letting go of his tight hold on the box for an instant. “You can look at him in the car, if you want, he’s really cute and he probably won’t get carsick. I read that whippets and greyhounds— he’s a whippet, by the way— are good at car travel, but still, I just want him to be as calm as possible— he hasn’t been very excitable the times I’ve met him, but it’s a change in environment, you know, I don’t want to make it harder on him, it’s a nervous breed, apparently—” By the time he’s wrapping up his whippet explanation, they’ve made it to the car, and he has to hand the box over to Emma so he can go around and get in the driver’s seat. Emma looks mildly apprehensive at being entrusted with a box full of dog, but is unfazed when the long nose pokes through one of the holes on the side, curiously sniffing the air inside the car.

“Why a whippet?” Emma asks, buckling herself in and then putting her arms around the box, as though hugging a child or a large backpack. “Is he a racetrack rescue?”

“ _Precisely_ ,” Changkyun grins as he starts the car. “Torn straight from the vicious jaws of capitalism! Well, here’s the thing, I couldn’t get anything too cute or Kihyun would hate it for being brainless, and I couldn’t get anything too big or Kihyun would complain it was unmanageable, and whippets are apparently smart and easily trained and, you know, fast, and we have a decent yard and he goes for walks now, so I thought it might be nice for him to have a companion who can always keep up.”

Emma nods slowly, one of her hands now petting over the side of the box in what seems to be an unconscious gesture. She seems impressed by how well Changkyun knows his husband, but she shouldn’t be; isn’t every married couple like this? “Well. I hope Kihyun likes him.”

“He’ll hate the name for sure, don’t worry,” Changkyun assures her. “If nothing else, I guaranteeyou that.”

Emma says nothing. Inside the box, Bullet is snuffling. Is this awkward? It’s a little awkward. Emma hasn’t been Changkyun’s assistant for six years now, and she’s very accomplished in her own right — she’s done wonderful work for KB Pharma, she goes on business trips, she gets interviewed in publications. Changkyun hopes, belatedly and in retrospect, that she wasn’t offended by his invitation, that she saw it for what it was, a sign of appreciation and respect, not as indication that he still thinks she’s capable of nothing more than organizing his day-to-day. Changkyun doesn’t have an assistant anymore — Susanne covers most, if not all, of Emma’s former duties — but he couldn’t think of a better one than Emma anyway, and in a weird way, he’s proud of her and what she’s done, completely independently of his influence. Plus, four years ago when Kihyun was away, she invited him out for lunch, and he wasn’t in the kind of emotional headspace to be able to say yes so he said no, but still, it’s the thought that counts, and he’s always been grateful to her for it. And now she’s holding his dog and accompanying him to surprise his wonderful husband, and Changkyun knows it’s kind of lame to be the boss that tries to befriend his employees, but how can he help it when his employees are so great? “So how’s Sage?”

Emma blinks, but returns to neutrality in another moment. “She’s doing well. New poetry collection coming out in January.”

“That’s fantastic!” Changkyun smiles. “Please be sure I get sent a copy — I really loved that piece she had in the New Yorker last year.”

“Oh,” Emma says, audibly just a little pleased. “Thanks, I’ll tell her.”

Changkyun stops at a red light and checks to confirm that Kihyun hasn’t read his good-morning text yet. “One more stop on the way — flowers,” he says. “I changed florists, can you believe it?”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Emma says. “Did I hear something about your husband having a personal greenhouse on the Upper East Side…?”

“You heard about that, huh?” Changkyun grins, unashamed. “He sure does. I’m not getting the flowers from there, though, it’s his space, I won’t mess with it. And Imani’s great, she runs her whole business out of her house, grows the flowers in this crazy hydroponic basement space under her living room — it’s amazing. And since you’re supposed to give wood for the fifth anniversary, I ordered this arrangement, like, months ago to give her time to put it together. Can’t wait to see it!”

Emma must have forgotten how talkative Changkyun can be, because she seems mildly bemused by the flood of speech. Maybe she’s just tired; it is still very early morning, comparatively speaking. Changkyun fidgets at another red light and tries not to talk, but he has all this nervous energy and it’s making it difficult for him to just sit in silence, something he normally quite enjoys, so he clears his throat and says, “You can turn the radio on, if you want, or connect your phone or something. NPR?”

“That’s alright, thanks,” Emma says. Changkyun winces internally, sensing another awkward rambling monologue coming on, but Emma, superior intellect that she is, saves both of them from that cruel fate by saying, “Did you get a chance to look at the mid-quarter fiscal report?”

Changkyun, immensely grateful to her, replies that he did, and he likes the way the numbers are trending. That conversation keeps them busy all the way into Harlem, all the way up to an unassuming brownstone where a short woman is already waiting on the sidewalk and holding a very large crate; Changkyun parks, tells Emma it’ll just be a minute, then hops out to collect the flowers from Imani. But she insists on helping him get the crate into the trunk, and, eccentric floral mastermind that she is, refuses to let him take a peek under the lid before he’s gotten home. “And this is for you,” she adds, producing a sprig of goldenrod seemingly out of nowhere and tucking it behind his ear. “And this— for your friend.”

Changkyun takes the slender blue flower carefully so he doesn’t bruise the petals, smiling at Imani. But before he can even thank her, she’s swishing away from him and back into her house, and he checks his watch and sees that time is ticking on, so he bustles back into the car, too, and extends the flower to Emma, who had just leaned forward to turn down the car stereo. She takes it, a little surprised, and he sees her eyes flicker to the yellow blooms Imani placed behind his ear for him and the way she fights a smile as a result. “What are we listening to?” Changkyun asks as he buckles himself in and starts the car back up.

“Podcast,” Emma says, threading the stem of her flower through a buttonhole in her blouse. “Bullet missed you.”

“Aww, did he?” Changkyun smiles. “Don’t worry, kiddo, you’ll be home soon!”

Emma, tactfully, says nothing, and Changkyun takes mercy on them both and turns the volume back up so they can enjoy the podcast, which is somehow very quirky and light-hearted despite being all about gruesome historical crimes. Even though this is still marginally awkward, it’s nice to spend time with her again. Maybe Changkyun will finally cash in that lunch rain check from years ago, if she’d be open to it. Technically he’s not even her direct supervisor anymore; maybe they can just be friends! It’s a nice thought, but the closer they get to their destination, the harder he finds it to think about anything other than what’s waiting for him at home, how Kihyun is going to react, how this day is going to go. God, what if the dog is a mistake? Kihyun has never, ever shown interest in animals — their conversation about not wanting children, the origin of Changkyun’s idea to get a pet for them, had ended on a fairly dark note, both of them agreeing that they had too many complexes about parenthood to be comfortably responsible for a human life. Mind, that had been after hours of practically pulling teeth to get Kihyun to open up like that, but he’d gotten there in the end. Is this a mistake? Changkyun, as he takes the exit to get them into Bronxville, glances over to the cardboard box on Emma’s lap and hopes with everything he has that his intuition isn’t leading him astray. It must be a good sign that he’s not sure if Kihyun will hate this; with things that Kihyun will hate, he usually knows right away, but with this, he isn’t sure. That leaves just enough room for success, and Changkyun tends to thrive in the spaces of just-enough.

“You weren’t kidding,” Emma says suddenly, jolting Changkyun out of his spiral. “This is surprisingly isolated.”

“Sure is,” Changkyun says, but he’s distracted — he checks the time, 7:36, is Kihyun still asleep? What if he woke up and he doesn’t know where Changkyun is? It’s not like Changkyun wants to be away from him on their anniversary, either, so in an ideal world, Kihyun wakes up as soon as Changkyun brings the flowers inside, and then Changkyun can give him the dog and Emma can go home and Changkyun can poach some eggs while Kihyun gets to know their new family member, and—

“It’ll be okay,” Emma says in her typical very neutral tone. “You know that, right?”

Changkyun breathes out, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. “I do know that,” he mumbles. “If the dog doesn’t work out, would you want—”

“We have a very antisocial senior cat,” Emma says. “Sorry. But I can ask around.”

“I’ll let you know,” Changkyun says. He hates that even any part of him needs to plan for that possibility — he wants so badly to have been right, to have figured Kihyun out correctly once and for all, but failing in this regard would represent so much more than an unfortunate period in poor Bullet’s life. Can’t be more unfortunate than being named _Bullet,_ though. Which is a very Kihyuney thing to think, and he’s comforted by the fact that he can still channel Kihyun’s energy in his brain; in combination with Emma’s support, it’s enough to calm him down as he pulls into the familiar driveway and parks outside so the garage door opening doesn’t disturb Kihyun, if he’s still asleep. “Okay. So. Will you wait with him for just a minute? I’ll go bring in the flowers and see if Kihyun’s awake or not, and if he’s not then you can just come in, but if he is, then— well, I’ll text you and we can figure out what to do next.”

“I did always wonder how they pulled off those viral videos of surprising babies with kittens on Christmas,” Emma says. “I guess now I know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Changkyun says, rolling his eyes, and gets out of the car to retrieve the flowers from the trunk. The goldenrod falls from behind his ear, and he clamps it between his teeth to keep his hands free so he can carry the crate inside via the front door. After some fumbling and finagling with the keys and the crate and the door, he makes it in, and freezes in the foyer, ears practically perked up to listen for the slightest noise. Other than the permanent hum of the air conditioning this time of year, there’s nothing, and he exhales in relief. Kihyun is still asleep. He pulled it off.

Walking on light feet, he carries the crate into the kitchen and sets it down on the island. Off comes the lid, and he unlatches the side hinge to reveal — a glorious tangle of branches and vines, eucalyptus and curly willow and flowering apple twigs (alas, plums were out of season), wrapped like a blossoming bird’s nest around the spiky protea flower at the heart. It’s exactly the sort of thing Kihyun likes. Unconventional, visibly expensive without any tackiness, lavish but not wasteful, put together with heart. Perfect. With this, Changkyun doesn’t need to be unsure. He allows himself a moment of pride, then remembers he’s on a tight schedule and carefully removes the arrangement from the crate. Not making any noise, as quiet as a mouse, measured and slow and delicate—

His phone buzzes in his pocket and his heart just about jumps out of his chest. Blessedly, he doesn’t drop anything or knock the arrangement over, but when he checks his phone, he sees a text from Kihyun: _?_

He’s awake! Fuck. Changkyun texts Emma a typo-ridden update, indicating that she should be ready to go fairly soon, and takes the stairs two at a time to go and find his husband.

His husband is in bed, freshly awoken, reaching out with a lazy hand for Changkyun when he hears the door open. It’s glorious, the sense of immediate relief Changkyun feels upon the reunion, and he comes to kneel by the bedside, taking Kihyun’s cool hand in his own and leaning down to kiss the skin of his wrist. “Good morning,” he murmurs, soft so as to gentle him into wakefulness. “Happy anniversary.”

“Oh, that’s today?” Kihyun says, but he’s teasing, Changkyun can tell, and he slides his fingers up along Changkyun’s cheek and into his hair, giving him a little tug that makes Changkyun grin. “Mm. Where’d you run off to?”

“Picking up flowers,” Changkyun explains. God, he’d never be away from Kihyun for even a second if he could help it, and he leans in closer to kiss Kihyun’s forearm, his bicep, his shoulder, finally the corner of his sleepy mouth. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” Kihyun sighs, and permits a kiss.

“Good. I’ll go start cooking. Come with me?” Changkyun asks, brazenly needy, and it’s a testament to how sleepy Kihyun is that he doesn’t frown in response to that kind of nonsensical request. Instead, he nods, sits up, yawns, stretches. He’s so beautiful — Changkyun just stares at him, drinking him in, after that unbearable hour and a half of separation. Kihyun catches him looking, blinks with disapproval, and gets out of bed to pull on his robe, but Changkyun can see the suppressed smile at the edges of his lips, tucked away like something in a secret pocket. Kihyun doesn’t ask about how traffic was, getting in and out of the city; they don’t have a need to make small talk with each other anymore, and if anything is notable enough for Changkyun to want to tell Kihyun about it, he can say it unprompted. So they go down the stairs together in companionable silence, holding hands, and Changkyun remembers that Emma’s waiting out front in the car and squeezes Kihyun’s hand at a strategic moment, to make Kihyun look at him rather than the windows at the sides of the door. It works, but then Changkyun nearly falls down the last couple of stairs because he gets distracted by Kihyun’s loveliness, so Kihyun scoffs and hauls him safely to the kitchen and the moment is saved.

Changkyun seats Kihyun in front of the flowers, and although Kihyun’s not one for effusive demonstrations of gratitude, Changkyun can still see how much Kihyun likes them; he turns the arrangement on its wooden base to see it from all angles, his beautiful analytical eyes cataloguing each branch, each bloom, and when he’s seen it all, he looks at Changkyun and gives him the smallest of approving nods. It sends warmth shooting through Changkyun’s body, the knowledge that he’s done well, that Kihyun likes it, and his own smile is irrepressible as he goes over to start the water for Kihyun’s tea. Also, surreptitiously, he pulls his phone back out and texts Emma: _standby prbably 5 more min_

“Busy morning?” Kihyun asks, nosy as ever, and Changkyun whirls around, phone pressed guiltily to his chest.

“Um,” Changkyun says, “well.”

“What?” Kihyun says, with a drowsy note of genuine alarm. “What is it? I don’t want to go anywhere today, Changkyun, can’t we just—”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Changkyun assures him. He sets his phone down on the counter, chewing on the inside of his lip. How should he best explain this? He can’t just outright say it — Kihyun might misunderstand. But Kihyun is getting more and more alert by the second, and Changkyun needs to say _something,_ so he says the worst possible thing he could possibly say, which is: “I have a surprise for you.”

Kihyun’s face goes flat and blank. “You better not.”

Oh, dear. Changkyun turns to the tea maker, pours in the leaves, then keys in the appropriate combination of temperature and brew time, all with a certain frantic energy that only worsens the longer he can feel Kihyun’s judgmental eyes on him. “I’ll be right back,” he says.

Kihyun says nothing, but he stays still for Changkyun to kiss him on the cheek before taking his leave. Shit, shit shit. Obviously Kihyun hates surprises. Why the fuck had Changkyun worded it like that? Changkyun tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that Kihyun is probably expecting a vacation, or a new set of patio furniture, or anything but a small, vulnerable life to be responsible for — but isn’t that worse? _Shit._ He opens the front door and shuffles out to the car, and Emma looks up from her phone to see him.

“Okay, well, it’s go time,” Changkyun says, opening the passenger door. “How’s he doing, is he okay?”

“I think he might have fallen asleep,” Emma says. “Did you tell him?”

“Uh, not quite,” Changkyun says. Technically, there’s no real need for Emma to come in, but if she doesn’t, Changkyun knows Kihyun will have a million questions about how Changkyun managed to bring the dog back by himself and if he just left him in the car or outside, and so on, so this will be simpler for everyone. Plus, it’s only polite to offer her some water or something. He gestures for her to get out of the car, and she raises her eyebrows but does so, holding the box carefully, and together they head to the door and, Changkyun leading the charge, inside.

“Shoes off, please— it’s just this way,” Changkyun murmurs. He waits for Emma to step out of her summery loafers before continuing, and he puts the best smile he can on his face as they get to the kitchen. “Ta-dah!”

Kihyun looks up from rearranging the flower arrangement, and blinks in confusion when he sees Emma. “Is,” he says, bemused, “is Emma the surprise? Hello, Emma.”

“Hello, Kihyun, nice to see you,” Emma replies, stepping out to be by Changkyun’s side, and Kihyun sees the box in her hands and goes very, very still.

Changkyun doesn’t know what to say. Emma, politely, is waiting, and Kihyun gets up from his bar stool, face unreadable.

“Changkyun,” he says. “I swear to fucking God. If you have gotten me a dog.”

Emma looks at Changkyun for guidance on what to do, but Changkyun doesn’t know what to do — that’s not a good reaction, at _all,_ it’s not even _neutral,_ and all he’d wanted was to do something wonderful for Kihyun but he’s gotten it all wrong. Of course. Stupid, to try and surprise Kihyun with something. He knows Kihyun well, but clearly not quite as well as he’d thought. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. He looks at Kihyun again, then at Emma, and then at the box, despairing, rethinking all the decisions that got him to this point, cursing his complacency, his overconfidence, his recklessness. But after another minute of mutual staring, Kihyun sighs, crosses his arms, and says, “Fine, I’ll see the animal.”

Emma waits, and Changkyun gives her a tiny miserable nod. She leans down to set the box on the marble floor, careful not to jostle the contents, and undoes the cardboard latch at the top to open it. Changkyun’s heart, previously in his throat, is now throbbing somewhere behind his eyes, and after a second, a small, sleek grey head pops up between the cardboard flaps — the dog looks around with curious eyes, his long nose twitching to sniff the unfamiliar air, and Changkyun looks at Kihyun, terrified, to check his reaction, and Kihyun—

Kihyun makes a noise the likes of which Changkyun has never heard him make before in his life, his facial features rearranged into a completely unfamiliar combination. It’s a melting cry, not unlike the Wicked Witch of the West, and he looks stricken, helpless, and rushes forward with hands outstretched to scoop the fragile creature out of the box and into his arms. “ _Oh_ — my _baby_ — oh, he’s _beautiful—_ oh, he’s an _angel_ — hi, baby! Hi, baby! Oh, hi!”

“What,” Changkyun says, dumbfounded.

“Who’s so handsome,” Kihyun is cooing, the dog’s lean body cradled inextricably against his chest. “Who’s such a sweet little gentleman? You are! Oh, you are! Yes, you!”

It’s such an outlandish, extravagant reaction that for a moment, Changkyun almost thinks Kihyun is faking it; it’s the sort of thing he might have done _before._ But — no, that’s real emotion, Changkyun can see it — pure, inexorable happiness, bursting Kihyun at the seams. He glances at Emma to confirm that she’s seeing this, too, and the confusion on her face indicates that yes, she is, so Changkyun steps forward to join in this exuberant scene, hesitantly putting his arms around Kihyun, who’s still clutching the dog to his heart.

“Careful, don’t crush him,” Kihyun scolds, but melts back into beaming when Bullet bumps his little skull against his chin. “Oh, Changkyun, he’s _amazing.”_

Changkyun, still having the oddest feeling that this is all a dream, lets go of Kihyun with one arm to lightly scratch the top of Bullet’s head. “I hoped you’d think so,” he murmurs. “So— he’s a whippet, two years old, his name is Bullet—”

“No, it isn’t,” Kihyun gasps, all shock and indignation, and snatches himself and the dog away from Changkyun protectively. “No, that’s not his name. We’ll think of something better, won’t we, baby? Oh, you poor thing, aren’t you glad we saved you from that terrible family who gave you that terrible, terrible name—”

Is he _baby-talking?_ He knows how to do that? Is this a fucking dream? Kihyun is so happy. Is it stupid that Changkyun is just a little bit jealous? He has no doubt that Kihyun is privately this enthusiastic about him, but he has _never_ shown this much excitement about Changkyun, certainly, nowhere near it, but he’s bouncing the dog like a baby in his arms and murmuring sweet nothings to him, scratching behind his odd, flappy little ears, looking at him with starry eyes — Changkyun has never been on the receiving end of that look, and it seems he never will be. Okay, he’s definitely jealous. It’s idiotic. But Kihyun tears himself away from his happy dog-dad reverie to hurriedly, like an afterthought, press a small kiss to Changkyun’s mouth and say, “Thank you,” softly.

“Thank _you,”_ Changkyun says, equally softly.

Then Kihyun makes his awkward face, the very private one that only Changkyun can identify, and Changkyun remembers that Emma is there. He pulls away from Kihyun — who hates public displays of affection, and Changkyun is already so lucky to have so much affection from him in private, now, that he would never want to push that luck — and turns back to look at her. What are they supposed to do with her now? “Um—”

“For the love of God, will you get her an Uber back to Manhattan or something if she’s not staying for brunch,” Kihyun says.

“Oh, right. Would you like to stay for brunch?” Changkyun offers, and feels the pressure of Kihyun against his shoulder, and there’s such a remarkable solidarity in the knowledge that both he and Kihyun are currently fervently praying she’ll say no. Wedded telepathy really is something.

Emma looks to be fighting a smile. “I think I’d rather just take that Uber, thanks,” she says, “if there’s nothing else you need from me.”

Changkyun checks with Kihyun, but Kihyun is back in puppyland, adjusting his hold on the dog so they can stare into each other’s eyes. Jesus. Somehow, Changkyun is starting to regret this. “I think that’s it, yeah,” he replies, going over to get his phone and start the process of requesting a car for her. “I really appreciate your help so much, thank you for— well, being there, I guess.”

“I would say any time, but I’d really rather you didn’t call me at 6 AM again,” Emma says. “Other than that, though, sure, any time.”

“Of course,” Changkyun promises, blushing slightly. Looking back on his morning, it does seem spectacularly silly that he’d dragged Emma along just for this, but how was he meant to know how Kihyun was going to react to the whole thing? He supposes he needed the moral support after all, even though Emma had been joking when she’d said that. His phone dings to tell him the Uber is on its way, and he shows the screen to Emma, who nods laconically. Should he walk her out, would that be polite? Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t want to leave Kihyun, and Kihyun wouldn’t want him to leave, either, but a look back confirms that Kihyun isn’t concerned with what Changkyun does in the slightest; he has now set Bullet on the ground and is crooning adoringly as he clicks around with his bouncy gait, improbably balanced on his long, spidery legs. Changkyun sighs and extends a hand to show Emma back to the door, and she goes, once again having the tact not to comment on this whole rather insane situation.

He’d thought too soon; once on the front porch, she looks at him evenly and says, “See? You had nothing to worry about.”

Well, until Kihyun liked the dog more than he likes Changkyun. “Yeah,” Changkyun agrees anyway, with a smile. “Thank you again.”

Before she can reply, Kihyun’s voice rings out from further back inside the house: “Changkyun?”

Changkyun thrills at the sound, at the acknowledgment, at the attention. “Yes?”

“When you come back in, bring me my camera,” Kihyun calls.

Ah. Of course. Changkyun must make a face that reveals his clumsy, embarrassing jealousy, because this time Emma really can’t hold back, she laughs, just a little, and reaches out to grasp his shoulder. “Congrats,” she says, as the large black car pulls up behind Changkyun’s to pick her up. Whether she’s congratulating him on the anniversary or on the radical new direction in which his life is heading from this day forth is unclear, and Changkyun doesn’t want to ask for an explanation, just waves her on her way as she gets into the car.

Now that it’s just the two of them — well, three now, apparently — in the house again, Changkyun feels more himself, even with the uncomfortable feelings roiling around in his head. He closes and locks the door, then heads upstairs to retrieve Kihyun’s camera from its hibernation, lying dormant in one of the guest bedrooms. Is Kihyun going to have a photoshoot for the dog? He almost never takes pictures of Changkyun, let alone himself. Changkyun, unobserved, allows himself to pout, then feels ridiculous, for surely he’s overstating the situation, surely he’s imagining things, it couldn’t have been as bad as all that. Kihyun was just happy to see a normal-looking dog, not too small, not too big, pleasantly Victorian in style, and he’ll be glad to co-parent him with Changkyun. There’s no way Kihyun actually likes the dog more than he likes Changkyun. Kihyun loves Changkyun; he’d do anything for him. Changkyun is very confident about that. Besides, it’s their wedding anniversary — if there’s any day on which Kihyun is likely to prioritize Changkyun, this is it. With renewed spirits, Changkyun bounces back down the stairs to bring Kihyun the camera, saying, “Be right back, I’ll go put my car in the garage,” but Kihyun, lying supine on the living room rug with the dog walking in tight circles around his body, frowns up at him.

“What do you mean? We need to go buy him some vests,” he says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world, “and food, and a bed, and a _collar,_ what if he gets lost?” At that moment, Bullet approaches Kihyun’s head, and Kihyun makes kissy noises at him, then lets the dog lick his cheek, just once. “But you _won’t_ get lost, will you, baby? Because I’ll always be right next to you! We’re going to be together forever, aren’t we!” And then, just as fast, his tone snaps back to chilly as he looks up at Changkyun. “Well? Where’s the nearest pet store? _I’m_ ready to go anytime, it’s _you_ we’re waiting on.”

Oh, God. Changkyun just stands there, staring at the two of them, and comes to terms with his sorry fate: he’s jealous of a dog.

It’s not all bad, though, all in all. They now both have something to do, and it is sweet, Changkyun can admit, once he divorces himself from his jealousy, to see Kihyun so excited about something. And there’s so much to be excited about, so much to look forward to — they leave Petco (it’s always so funny when Kihyun’s pre-Changkyun financial sensibilities show themselves; Petco, when the dog will doubtless be wearing Louis Vuitton within less than a week!) laden with nail clippers, chew toys, extendable leashes, bowls, and the fanciest, most organic food Kihyun could find. “Of course we’ll switch to a fresh food delivery service as soon as possible, that’s what’s best for the breed,” Kihyun sniffs, having downloaded an ebook on the care and feeding of whippets on the drive over. “I’m signing us up for one right now, don’t you worry.” Not talking to Changkyun, of course. Changkyun is just the chauffeur. He drives them to a dog park next, but they don’t even get out of the car after Kihyun sees “one too many mutts.” Bullet, to his credit, really is the perfect dog for Kihyun; he’s motionless in his lap and utterly silent, only seen and not heard, so Changkyun can grudgingly admit that he has the edge on Changkyun in that regard. But he’s no longer Bullet — he’s now a nameless extraterrestrial entity and will remain so until Kihyun can pin down the perfect name for him. They spend the evening seeing how fast the dog can run — _extremely,_ as it turns out — while Kihyun cheers for him, and when Changkyun explains that he’s a rescue from an illegal racing ring, Kihyun looks nearly on the brink of tears as he thinks about the conditions his baby must have had to endure. Is Kihyun a pod person? Where the fuck is this coming from? Changkyun has never given a gift _this_ successful before — honestly, it may have been a little bit too successful. As they all get into bed at night, yes, all three of them, the dog immediately trotting with his prim gait up to curl into a smooth bagel on Kihyun’s pillow, Kihyun looks at Changkyun through the dusky light, really looks at him for the first time since the cardboard box had opened, and murmurs, “How did you know?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you,” Changkyun says, after a moment’s hesitation. “Just… a gut feeling, I guess.”

Kihyun is smiling, and he brings up a hand to stroke so, so delicately over the curve of the dog’s ribs. “I still don’t like surprises.”

“I know,” Changkyun sighs, “I know, I’m sorry, I should have—”

“But,” Kihyun interrupts, “this— is nice. This was a good surprise.”

“Oh.” Changkyun starts to smile, too, and he touches Kihyun’s hand atop the dog’s silky side. Kihyun pauses his petting to curl his fingers around Changkyun’s, and he doesn’t even complain when Changkyun pushes himself up to lean in and give him a small goodnight kiss. It’s not an inauspicious ending to the day, Changkyun decides. It’s been a decent anniversary. If this is how it’s going to be from now on, he can definitely handle this, and falls asleep with the dog’s quiet breathing against his ear.

Unfortunately, matters devolve rapidly. Kihyun is up at dawn the next morning, and when Changkyun joins him and the dog (“What do you think of Napoleon as a name?”) downstairs, Kihyun is already dressed and ready to go, demanding that they take a family trip to a boutique shop that’s noted for selling cashmere sweaters for dogs. “But,” Changkyun attempts, “it’s August?”

The glare that Kihyun pierces him with could burn down villages. “What if he gets cold,” he grits out, and how is Changkyun meant to argue with that?

Of course they don’t only get sweaters. They get him a bed, and a gorgeous set of hand-painted ceramic bowls at an ergonomic angle so it’s comfortable for him to eat, and a squeaky toy shaped like a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. The whole time, Kihyun is proud and preening under the attention of the boutique’s employees, so delighted to show off his little trophy, who has made himself right at home inside the largest of Kihyun’s Birkins. Changkyun follows behind them dutifully, holding the shopping basket, and sulks. When has Kihyun ever shown _him_ off like this? Even when introducing him to his friends, the most Kihyun had been able to muster up was shy gratification, as though reluctantly displaying a well-worn stuffed animal at an elementary school show and tell. But the highlight of the day comes when they go to Hermès to pick out a collar for the animal, Kihyun having printed up a tag at Petco the previous day with his phone number and a blank spot for the name, and Kihyun absent-mindedly says, “Should get one of these for _you,”_ and Changkyun spends the rest of the afternoon pink and mollified.

Kihyun FaceTimes each of his friends individually to boast about his dog. Yet again, another thing he never did with Changkyun, even when he was pretending to be the perfect adoring boyfriend. Minhyuk laughs hysterically about what a weird little horse they’ve brought into their home, Hyungwon gives him a grave seal of approval, and Wonho, predictably, cries, and afterwards, Changkyun miserably accompanies Kihyun and the dog on a walk through the woods: mostly he just holds the leash while Kihyun snaps pictures of each dainty step of the dog’s dainty paws. When night comes, Changkyun hopes that perhaps the new bed that they bought will actually be put to use, but of course the dog just jumps right up onto the duvet when Kihyun slips under the covers and takes the spot that normally Changkyun gets to take — the spot of living body pillow. “How about Harvard?” Kihyun muses, hugging the dog like a teddy bear. “As a name, I mean.”

“And risk people calling him something like Harvey?” Changkyun mumbles, uncharacteristically petty. “No way.”

“Good point,” Kihyun sighs, but before Changkyun can enjoy the praise, Kihyun goes right back to babytalking to the dog, and Changkyun bitterly turns onto his other side to give them some privacy and forces himself to go to sleep, not that anybody cares.

The fresh food arrives the next day, and Kihyun quite literally spoonfeeds the whole first portion to “Montgomery? No, that doesn’t suit him, either, fuck.” Changkyun stands in the doorway of the kitchen, suffering. It’s so cute, this side of Kihyun, but so— so— _unfair._ Changkyun glares at the beast whenever Kihyun isn’t paying attention. How dare he steal all of Kihyun’s affection for himself? But forget being _nice;_ Kihyun hasn’t even had time to be mean to Changkyun lately, either, which is arguably far worse. If Changkyun isn’t even worth being mean to, what is he worth at all? Changkyun loves the way Kihyun is mean to him. The denial, the erotically charged rejection. But this? Treating Changkyun like wallpaper? Changkyun is having trouble abiding it. He tries to content himself by reimagining this situation as yet another one of Kihyun’s games, but is hard-pressed to succeed. The fact of the matter is — the dog is exciting and new, and Changkyun is boring. Not only in comparison, but also in general. Changkyun sits on one end of the couch while Kihyun and the dog cuddle on the other, simultaneously hoping for an invitation to join them and fantasizing about Kihyun locking their bedroom door to keep the dog asleep in his _own_ bed, ideally in the garage or something, out of sight and out of mind. Unfortunately, neither happens. Changkyun is relegated to the far left side of his own bed since the dog has taken a shine to one of _his_ pillows, and Kihyun will hear no complaints on the subject.

Changkyun can grudgingly admit the dog has some obscure appeal, though. He’s a bizarre, improbably-shaped animal, a pickier eater than Kihyun himself (they have to switch foods after three days, he’d stopped enjoying the kind Kihyun had initially chosen), and he moves in utterly undoglike ways. Sometimes, Changkyun can swear he understands the things Kihyun says to him; sometimes, Changkyun swears the dog is glaring at him in return. But he’s… cute, in a strange way, and Changkyun kind of understands why people like this sort of thing, even when he has to take him on a walk at 5 AM, because of course Kihyun only did that the first time and oh-so-sweetly requested that Changkyun do it going forward, and Changkyun couldn’t say no and risk slipping even further down Kihyun’s list of priorities. It’s clear the dog doesn’t much like him and prefers Kihyun greatly, which Changkyun is fine with. Despite the momentary surge of joy he gets whenever the animal waits at his feet to be given a small chunk of ham and licks his finger in gratitude afterwards, he doesn’t really care about him beyond as a competitor. No matter how darling, admittedly, he looks in his houndstooth vests and cashmere turtlenecks. Changkyun will remain unmoved.

Today the dog’s name is Theodore, but Changkyun knows it’s not going to stick. Kihyun doesn’t ask him for name input, fashion input, or activity input, and yet insists on Changkyun staying home from work to participate in training. Changkyun has no idea why it rankles him so terribly to do the kinds of things Kihyun would _normally_ be having him do — adhering to his whims as to whether Changkyun should go to work or not, performing menial tasks, waiting on him hand and foot, et cetera — but he supposes it’s because he hasn’t gotten any sort of reward at the end. It’s not that Changkyun has an unhealthy libido, or any kind of dependency on sex, but, well, he and Kihyun are accustomed to a certain kind of lifestyle, and the fact of the matter is, Kihyun hasn’t so much as glanced at him below the belt since Changkyun brought the dog home. Changkyun resigns himself to sad, unfulfilling shower masturbation and pining the whole rest of the time while Kihyun dotes exclusively on his “sweet little gentleman” (that title, at least, has remained in vogue).

Are there silver linings to this situation that Changkyun created? If so, they’re few and far between. The three of them go to the vet to get the dog’s booster shots (“Put his name in as Francis for now, but expect a call soon with an update; I’m not decided yet”) and Kihyun holds Changkyun’s hand so tightly while the vet prepares the needle that Changkyun’s joints are sore for a quarter of an hour afterwards, but it’s the most touch and pain Kihyun has inflicted upon Changkyun in the past week and a half, so Changkyun is happy, for once. Generally, he feels irrational and upset, very much the doglike one himself, whining for the slightest scrap of attention. See, he’d loved Kihyun treating him like a pet until Kihyun got an _actual_ pet. Now Kihyun doesn’t treat him like a pet; he doesn’t treat him like anything at all, in fact. He may as well not even be there, that’s how much time Kihyun spends interacting with Changkyun for non-dog-related reasons.

And unfortunately, Changkyun has emotionally matured past the point he was at a few years ago, when he’d often act out to get Kihyun’s attention. He can’t take too long getting back from a workout in the hopes of Kihyun tying him to the bed and reminding him of his place afterwards; he can’t make a snarky comment that will result in Kihyun’s fingers stuffing his mouth silent. If he tried anything along those lines, anything that would normally get a great reaction, Kihyun wouldn’t notice a damn thing. The dog has become his whole world. Another silver lining Changkyun tries to see — at least this means Changkyun was Kihyun’s world before? But that silver lining is thin and the cloud it’s on is immense. Because as it stands, Kihyun seems very happy with this new pecking order, and Changkyun fears that this is a case of only knowing what he had now that it’s gone.

Another complication is that he continues to find the dog cuter with each passing day. He almost finds himself looking forward to their morning walks. How is it possible to befriend one’s mortal enemy? This town ain’t big enough for the two of them, and Changkyun fears he may have to be the one to move. Kihyun spends hours each day training the dog to roll over, shake hands, stand on his hind legs (Changkyun sullenly thinks, _I can already do all of that!)_ and smothering him in kisses and adoration. He’s become exactly what he once loved to mock. Out of every confusing thing Kihyun has ever done, this is the least comprehensible, and Changkyun can only watch as the two of them, already with an uncanny resemblance, sit side by side as Kihyun online shops for even more dog clothes.

“We need to talk,” Changkyun says gravely.

There is no response; why would there be? But Changkyun doesn’t let that discourage him, no matter how much he’s been dreading this conversation, and braves on: “I’ll be honest with you, I can’t handle this anymore. It’s unfair to me, and I feel like you don’t care at all about how I’m doing or my thoughts on the matter, and it’s— well, it’s just unfair. It feels, to put it bluntly, toxic.”

Continued, stoic silence. Changkyun is beginning to get frustrated, an unfamiliar sensation, but he’ll get a reaction no matter the cost — he’s waited patiently for far too long to just let this one go. “So you can either work with me or we can declare all-out war, and I don’t think that’s what you want, right? Surely we can come to some arrangement where we both get what we want. Because right now, the only one getting what he wants is you. Now you tell me. Does that sound fair? In what world is that fair?”

Nothing! Like talking to a brick wall. A grey, fuzzy brick wall. Changkyun sighs and feeds the dog a tiny treat shaped like a star — Kihyun insists on both of them keeping training treats with them at all times to encourage the dog’s correct behaviors. Again, another strategy he never even dreamed of trying with Changkyun (although, of course, Changkyun reacts far better to a healthy blend of negative and positive reinforcement). “My life is terrible,” Changkyun mumbles, feeding the dog another one and petting behind his velvety ear while he chews. “But you don’t care at all about how I’m doing, do you? Huh?”

The dog blinks at him and pushes his nose into his palm, sniffing out more treats. Changkyun relents and gives him another. “Tell you what,” he says, fixing the collar of the dog’s Comme des Garçons t-shirt where it’s started to slip down his long, strange neck. “If we can’t figure this out right now, either you go, or I go. Which one do you think would make him happier?”

But entertaining the thought even for a second makes Changkyun feel horribly guilty, and, since Kihyun is in the shower and will be for the next foreseeable future, he permits himself the unthinkable transgression of leaning in to kiss the top of the dog’s domed head by way of apology. Shockingly, he gets a kiss on his chin in return, and Changkyun narrows his eyes, pulling away. “You manipulative little beast. Trying to make me like you so that I’ll feel better about being replaced.”

Christ, he’s talking to a dog. He’s lost his mind. Don’t some people use dogs as emotional support animals? Changkyun doesn’t feel emotionally supported in the slightest; he feels mocked and disrespected by the cool, glossy stare the dog is matching him with. He sighs miserably, frowns, and feeds him another treat. It’s so embarrassing that the first time he’s ever truly tasted jealousy over the course of his and Kihyun’s marriage is over a scrawny little dog, but then again, Othello murdered his wife over a handkerchief.

That, at least, makes Changkyun chuckle and feel a little better in comparison. “Have you prayed tonight, Desdemon?” he quotes, lowering his voice into a creepy, dramatic register. “If you bethink yourself of any crime unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace, solicit for it straight.”

The bathroom door bangs open and Changkyun jolts away from the animal, startled; he hadn’t even heard the shower turn off. “What did you just call my dog?” Kihyun says, his robe on, his skin all aglow, his eyes hard.

Changkyun swallows, nervous, but at least Kihyun is looking at him. “I— was just quoting Shakespeare…? You know, Desdemona. Like— because— never mind.”

“Desdemon,” Kihyun repeats, and next to Changkyun, the dog stiffens and sits alert, cocking his head to the side. “Desdemon?”

The dog actually jumps off the bed and trots smoothly to his side, and Kihyun gasps quietly, leaning down to pet him. Changkyun’s jaw has dropped, but when Kihyun looks up at him again, he remembers, instinctively, to close it.

“That’s it,” Kihyun says. “That’s his name.”

“Really?” Changkyun says, floored.

Kihyun is smiling, small, a sunrise through the clouds, and crouches down to kiss Desdemon — God, that’s right, it really is his name, it has to be — on the side of his head. “Desdemon,” he coos. “Go get in bed!”

Changkyun’s heart drops, but wonders never cease; rather than returning to the spot he’d been in moments prior, Desdemon turns and gambols out of the room, and Changkyun hears the click of his claws as he continues all the way down the stairs, presumably to curl up in the bed Kihyun set up for him in the living room. Well, that makes no sense. When had Kihyun trained him to do that? Changkyun blinks over at Kihyun, who is walking slowly to close the door in Desdemon’s wake, then looking at Changkyun with bright eyes, glittering with the kind of purpose Changkyun hasn’t seen in them for two weeks.

Changkyun can’t believe it. This is really, finally happening. Kihyun comes to a halt right in front of him, one hand moving to tug open his robe, the other resting on Changkyun’s shoulder, and Changkyun’s ugly jealousy rears its head and he blurts out, “So I’m still your favorite, right?”

“Shut _up,”_ Kihyun laughs, shoving Changkyun’s shoulder hard, and Changkyun, wanted, preferred, valued after all, beams and goes exactly where Kihyun tells him to go.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/paratazxis) (+ tip jar therein if interested, and pls use #FoolproofAO3!!), [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/paratazxis), [official playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/12MLmAfM9PhFB63N7EWMww?si=yQVn9E5ZR_-1vJVLkdfFFg), [More Fun playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4uy2Cl1pvB2ebqD4mUEJ75?si=26jS0Ry5SmyqOP3TqGegmQ)
> 
> AND YOU CAN FIND AMAZING HILARIOUS ART OF DESDEMON [RIGHT HERE!!!!!!!](https://twitter.com/paratazxis/status/1286701099941060612)
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!!! i just missed these two so badly that i couldn’t help but write this :( i really hope you enjoyed seeing this glimpse into changkyun's twisted mind, and that this was fun/enjoyable for you and a satisfying conclusion to the fic (since i know the actual ending was fairly short... anyway idk if this will be the last thing i ever write for this universe but i guess we will see since, as aforementioned, i cannot shut up). please do tell me what you thought (and tell me if you noticed all the easter eggs/references to foolproof itself hehe) by commenting below, or by coming to chat at one of the links above!!! i hope all of you are staying safe and healthy, and i’ll catch yall next time >:}


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